


It's Only a Number

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: Longing [6]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Established Relationship, Gibbs worrying about his age, Longing series universe, M/M, San Diego Comic-Con, Threesome - M/M/M, Timeline 2020, Worried Gibbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 11:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11577108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: It was official. He was too damn old for this shit.





	It's Only a Number

 

“Babe, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna suffer some sort of brain damage if you roll those baby blues of yours one more time.”

Jethro licked the buttered popcorn-flavored fingers tapping his lower lip before gesturing at the images on the flat screen TV in front of them.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Shhhhhhhh. Let him be. We’re the newbies, remember?” Tony expertly mimicked Sargent Schultz from the sixties TV series, _Hogan’s Heroes_. “We know _nothing_! **_Nothing_**!” he dramatically whispered.

Throwing caution to the wind, Jethro rolled his eyes again. “But, seriously.” Confused beyond explanation, he gestured not only at the TV but also at the luggage stacked near the door leading to the hallway, luggage that would soon be on its way to San Diego via Ron Howard’s private jet. “Is this really necessary? You’ve never done anything like this before.” He rubbed at his eyes before grabbing up his cheaters and glancing at the multiple pages of info Gerald had handed them over an hour ago. “I understand making the rounds of all the talk shows but a comic book convention? Your new movie has nothing to do with comic books.”

“Oh, you sweet old dinosaur.”

Jethro begrudgingly accepted Tony’s kiss and grunted with displeasure when a pitying look was aimed in his direction, followed by a gentle pat to his cheek. It wasn’t often he took offense to remarks regarding his age but today his body was reminding him of each and every one of those 62 years he’d managed to survive, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Comic Con is so much more than comic books. There are TV shows, movies, not to mention games, books, cosplay. Add to that hundreds of exhibits and sellers and . . . .”

Jethro tried his best to avoid the elbow aiming for his side. Unfortunately, it connected with the bruised area of his ribcage, and he couldn’t halt the hiss of pain that resulted from the contact. Fortunately Tony was still rambling on about the damn convention they were going to attend and didn’t notice his distress.

Scooting slightly away, Jethro covertly slipped a protective hand over the injured area. Tony had accidentally slammed him with a plank of wood during his weekly, Gerald-assigned chore of _Help Jethro straighten up whatever current mess he’s made in his workshop_. No matter how much he protested this designated assignment, and protest he did, because, damn it, it was **his** workshop and if he wanted things straightened, **he’d** do it himself. Unfortunately, both of his husbands were determined to assist him, which, once again, only led him to believe they were doing so because they thought he was getting on in years and actually needed their assistance.

He rubbed the sore area while silently growling in protest. Not only hell, no but **HELL** , **NO**!

Sitting up straight, Jethro gave his full attention to Tony, who, of course, was still talking.

“Both my agent and Ron agreed this would be the perfect opportunity to showcase our movie. Attendance at this year’s Comic Con is going to be huge, HUGE!” Tony held up a hand and started counting off, one finger at a time. “You’ve got the newest Star Trek movie premiering at the end of this year, along with the sequels to both Marvel movies, Black Panther and Doctor Strange. But the biggest draw of all . . .”

Tony indicated one of his numerous framed movie posters on the wall, a poster that Jethro would go to his grave before admitting how hot he thought the main character was.

“. . . will be the panel announcing the remake of _Firefly_. I can’t even begin to explain how enormous that show’s fanbase has grown over the years. And if the rumors are true, that **both** Nathan Fillion and Alan Tudyk will be making appearances at not only the convention but also in the series . . .”

Jethro watched as Tony struggled to control himself but his husband’s efforts were to no avail obviously from the way he started excitedly bouncing up and down on the couch, a move which only served to jostle Jethro, which in turn jostled his bruised ribs. He scooted a few inches to the side and covertly placed a pillow between the two of them just in case Tony’s excitement got the best of him.

“And to top it all off, the creator of _Firefly_ , Joss Whedon, will be there. His presence alone will guarantee a record setting attendance for this year’s convention, and if just a fraction of those fans decide to buy a ticket to our panel, icing on the cake, babe. Couldn’t ask for a better venue to promote our movie.”

Shaking his head once again in total confusion, Jethro took a moment to check on Gerald and found his husband was still working on the “instructional presentation” he was determined to share with them. And yes, Jethro mentally used quotation marks because who in the hell needed a slideshow presentation for a convention about comic books.

Correction.

Convention about TV shows, movies AND comic books.

He shoved down the sigh of frustration that was fighting for freedom.

It was official.

He was too damn old for this shit.

 

+++++++

 

“Tell me again, why I need to be there.”

Gerald stopped brushing his teeth and pointed his foam-covered toothbrush at him. “Uh, one, Tony asked you to come. Uh, two, it’s for Tony and three, what the fuck?” Gerald spit and rinsed before turning around and glaring at him. “All for one and one for all, remember?”

“Yeah but . . .”

“No buts, Jethro. This is a huge honor for Tony and you sure as hell will be there to support him.”

Exiting the bathroom, Gerald walked into the suite’s master bedroom and collected his costume from where it was hanging in the closet. He placed each individual piece of clothing and accompanying accessories on the bed before dropping the towel draped around his waist. Jethro remained where he was, leaning against the edge of the room’s ornate dresser, and he remained there, ignoring the sudden heat pooling in his groin, until Gerald strapped on the final piece of his costume. He then wasted no time moving to where his husband was standing in front of the mirror and molded his body to Gerald’s lean form.

“I don’t understand your fascination with this character or this show but god damn it, Gerald, you look so good in that outfit I’d fuck you where you’re standing.”

Jethro groaned when the hard, cold steel of a gun’s barrel pressed none-too-gently against his erection. “Harder,” he encouraged.

Gerald complied but only after he snarked, “I’m guessing a certain someone won’t be needing that prescription of Cialis we got refilled before coming on this trip.”

The offhand remark regarding the newest addition to his growing list of ailments killed his lust quicker than a fire doused by a bucket of water, and Jethro immediately stepped away from his husband. It was bad enough his noticeable erection had deflated in seconds flat. To witness a pitying look on Gerald’s face would destroy him.

“Babe?”

Gerald reached for him and Jethro allowed himself a moment of comfort before shaking off the hand gripping his shoulder. “When did you say we were meeting up with Tony?”

Gerald fiddled with the familiar brown leather duster he wore as part of his costume before consulting the timetable he had created and taped to the corner of the full-length mirror attached to the bathroom door. “He and Howard will be making the rounds of live streaming interviews this morning and will meet us at the convention center after lunch.”

Gerald tapped the piece of paper with the butt of his revolver. “Right about now they’re finishing up with _TV Guide_ and, if they’re on schedule, will have about a thirty minute break before the next interview. Why don’t you give him a call?”

Jethro rubbed his forehead and seriously considered taking a couple of Tylenol to combat the headache he could feel taking shape. “I don’t want to bother him.” The entourage surrounding both Tony and Ron Howard was daunting, to say the least, and totally necessary considering the amount of interviews and activities that needed to be dealt with before they left for home on Monday. He didn’t know about Tony or Gerald, but he, himself, was already exhausted and it was only Saturday. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

Or maybe not.

Moving across the room to stand next to his husband, Jethro squinted at the scheduled activities for the rest of the day and grumbled with disgust. According to Gerald’s incredibly detailed timetable, which . . . what the fuck?

He cast a sideways glance at Gerald and mentally made a note to speak to Tony about their husband’s growing obsession with organizing every aspect of their lives. It was beginning to irritate the hell out of him, which, no doubt, was another sign of old age.

Shaking the growing tension from his shoulders, he returned his attention to the schedule and discovered Tony wouldn’t be free until 11PM and that was **if** an early halt was called to the party being thrown on his behalf by the members of his official fan club. No doubt, the party would continue until the wee hours of the morning and he seriously doubted he could stay awake that long.

“Don’t worry about it; he’s busy. I’ll see him when I see him.”

Defeated, Jethro shook his head and instantly regretted it when his headache announced a pre-emptive strike with an eye-watering stab of intense pain. He turned toward the bathroom, intent on grabbing the bottle of Tylenol he’d stuffed in his shaving kit but was waylaid when Gerald grabbed his arm.

“How many times do I have to explain this to you?” Gerald asked. “Tony is stressed to the max about you being here. He knows how much you hate these things and I’m pretty sure his mind is more on you than the business at hand, which, in case you’ve forgotten, is PROMOTING HIS MOVIE.

Grimacing, Jethro held up a hand. “You don’t have to yell. My hearing is still functioning at 100%. For now, anyway.”

“Then quit being such an old grouch and call Tony.”

Jethro accepted Gerald’s apologetic kiss and added his hands to those cupping the sides of his face.

“Please, Jethro. Call Tony.”

Jethro offered his own repentant kiss and threw in a ‘forgive me, I’m an asshole’ hug just for good measure. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Back at ya.” Gerald made a shooing gesture toward the room’s balcony. “Go make your call while I check in with the front desk. Need to make sure the car will be waiting for us when we leave.”

Jethro shared one more kiss with his husband. “Please make sure it’s not a limo. Tony may love ‘em but I hate ‘em. Too damn fancy and totally unnecessary.”

Gerald waved a hand in the air in acknowledgment before disappearing through the doorway that led to the suite’s living area.

“Whatever happened to our simple, quiet, no nonsense life?” Jethro stared at his phone’s current wallpaper and couldn’t help but grin. It was a picture of both his husbands and their growing collection of pets.

“I may gripe and grumble but if you want to know the truth, I wouldn’t change one single moment of the past 15 years. Not one second,” he whispered.

He opened the favorites folder on his phone and thumbed Tony’s number.

“Hey.”

“Jethro! Love of my life! I’m so glad you called! How are you doing? Everything okay? You’re coming to my panel, right? I mean, if you don’t want to I’ll . . . .”

“I’ll be there, babe. Quit worrying. Me and Gerald’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss for it for the world.”

“Oh, thank God. I know how much you despise these things and really, I seriously considered not coming because I know you and even though you’re all supportive and encouraging I really thought you’d flat out refuse to come with me and Gerald and even though it would hurt like hell, I’d understand because you’re you and I love you and I wouldn’t do anything to change you or God forbid, jeopardize our----”

“Breathe, Tony, breathe.”

Jethro banged his head against the glass window and silently berated himself. Idiot, you fucking asshole of an idiot.

“Tell me about your interviews. How’s the response? Positive, I’m sure. Howard was damn smart teaming up with you, babe. It’s gonna be a hell of a movie, especially now that you’ve signed that kid from England and what’s his name . . . the spastic one. The one from that damn wolf show you and Gerald used to go gaga over.”

“Dylan, Jethro. His name is Dylan O’Brien. And don’t pretend you don’t know who he is. You’ve bought every one of his Mitch Rapp movies.”

Jethro cleared his throat. Tony had him. He did, indeed, like the actor and, no, it had nothing to do with his good looks. The series of movies O’Brien was currently starring in were set in the world of counter-terrorism and who, in their right mind, wouldn’t enjoy watching a badass black ops agent kick some terrorist butt.

“Back to the matter at hand . . .”

Jethro felt a sudden burst of warmth in his chest at the sound of Tony’s laughter. Closing his eyes, he pressed a hand over his heart and smiled. God, he loved the man.

“Laugh it up, babe. I’m not the one who throws a boner when Mitch switches from weapons to hand to hand combat.” Jethro stepped out on the balcony and examined the cloudless sky. “Of course,” Tony continued, “I can’t complain. I do enjoy going _hand to hand_ with you after we finish watching one of those movies. They definitely inspire your _creative_ nature.”

“My _creative_ nature will be nailing your ass to the mattress tonight. On that you can be sure.”

Gerald appeared at the door and, with a wave of his hand, indicated it was time to go. Jethro exited the balcony and collected not only his room key but also the VIP badge he would be required to wear the second they arrived at the convention.

“Bring it on, babe. Bring it on,” Tony huskily dared him.

Headache forgotten, Jethro followed Gerald out the door and damn if he didn’t feel quite so old now.

 

+++++++

 

The headache had returned full strength by the time the three of them were escorted to the secured VIP waiting area behind the stage where the panel for Tony’s newest movie would take place. Not only was his head on the verge of exploding but his right hand felt as if it would need extensive rehab from the all the handshaking it had been subjected to during the past three hours. He knew Tony had obtained celebrity status shortly after his first book had been made into a movie but he hadn’t quite come to grips with exactly how damn popular his husband had become over the years. Everybody and their mother, sister **and** grandmother wanted to get up close and personal with Tony They all wanted a piece of him, whether it be a handshake, an autograph or a photo. And of course, since he and Gerald were part of Tony’s entourage, they were naturally included in all introductions.

Trying to ease the pain in his hand, he spent several seconds opening and closing his fingers while watching Tony converse with Howard. Whatever they were discussing had Tony excited beyond measure and Jethro took a moment to simply enjoy the smile spreading across his husband’s face. 

A large cup of Starbucks coffee unexpectedly blocked his sight of Tony, and Jethro nearly whimpered with gratitude before accepting the steaming container from Tony’s personal assistant.

“I don’t care what anyone says, you’re my favorite.” He once again made note to add a little extra to the Amazon gift card he always gave the young woman at Christmas. Mai was a god-send and he blessed the day Tony’s agent hired the petite, dark-haired firecracker. Mai took shit off of no one and that was a plus in her favor considering she not only had to deal with Tony but also his two husbands, one of which was turning into an OCD monster and one who was a grumpy old bear if denied his daily infusions of caffeine.

“Damn straight, Gibbs.” With a nod of her head, Mai indicated the curtains on their side of the stage. “Have you looked out there? The place is packed.” Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she consulted her phone. “I’m going to go check on Tom and Dylan. Do you need anything before I go?”

Shoving down the embarrassing thrill that grabbed him every time someone mentioned Dylan O’Brien’s name, Jethro held up his coffee cup. “I’m good.” He glanced over his shoulder before asking, “Have you seen Gerald?”

Mai pointed to the opposite end of the area behind the stage. “He’s over there drooling on one of his favorite actors. Seems Anthony Mackie is a big fan of Tony’s books and is here to see if there’s a part for him in the next movie.”

Taking a large swallow of coffee, Jethro hid his grin when he noticed the way Mai’s eyes were glued to the man Gerald was fawning over. Obviously his husband wasn’t the only one infatuated with Mr. Mackie.

“Maybe you should point Gerald back in my direction before he embarrasses himself. Besides, it’s time for us to huddle with Tony before he goes on stage.”

Mai acknowledged his instruction with a sharp salute and a familiar smirk. “You got it, boss. Huddle Time.”

Shaking his head, he spared a second to confirm Mai was indeed headed in Gerald’s direction before turning and vainly searching for Tony in the growing crowd of people behind him. “Where in the hell has he gotten himself off to now?” Jethro looked at his watch. They’d be lucky if they had any time at all before Tony had to go up on stage.

Huddle time, as Mai liked to call it, was something Gerald had insisted they do every time the three of them were together for an event involving Tony. His husband was now an international celebrity and Gerald was adamant they remember exactly what was truly important in their lives and they did so by spending at least five to ten minutes reconnecting with each other before each event. It went without saying the huddle usually ended with the three of them kissing or hugging, which, in the beginning, Jethro had completely been against because he hated . . . what was it the kids called it nowadays . . . PDAs, PDIs?

Jethro pinched the bridge of his nose. For the life of him, he couldn’t keep up with all of these new abbreviations his husbands insisted on using when they texted. No wonder the youth of today were idiots. They couldn’t even be bothered to spell out words anymore.

He took another sip of coffee and allowed its strong flavor to soothe his frustration. A good 60 seconds passed before he could admit he was definitely an old dog and was still having trouble learning new tricks. On the other hand, he was more than happy to point out that this grumpy old dog had definitely mellowed over the years when it came to openly showing his love for both his husbands. It may have taken gentle prodding on Gerald’s part – Jethro chuckled – more like hitting him over the head with a 2 by 4 -- but once he’d realized how important something as simple as a hug or kiss or hell, holding hands, was to both Gerald and Tony, he’d squashed his natural reticence and gotten on board with the program.

“I don’t care what you say, Special Agent Daniels is beyond sexy.”

Jethro nearly choked on his coffee when he heard the conversation going on behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and found the two contest winners Tony had insisted on introducing to him and Gerald upon their arrival to the convention.

Jethro momentarily frowned while trying to remember the details of the contest. Something about fanfiction art work and donating the proceeds to Tony’s favorite charity.

“You are so fuckin’ right. Daniels is my fave and I would jump his bones in five seconds flat.”

What the fuck? Daniels was the character Tony laughingly referred to as Gibbs, version 2.0.

He snuck another glance at the two women, zeroing in on the one ready to jump his bones in five seconds flat. What was her name? Danita? Davita?

“You and me both! Older men, especially those that are kick-ass bastards like Daniels get me hot in all the right places.”

Yep. _Kick-ass bastard_. That’s me. Jethro took a sip of coffee in order to camouflage the smile his ego demanded of him.

“And don’t even get me started on how fuckin’ awesome it is that they chose Mark Harmon to play the part.”

Jethro nodded his head in agreement. Harmon had indeed been the right choice for the character. Both Tony and the studio execs had asked his opinion when they were trying to decide between Harmon and Scott Bakula. He had gone with his gut feeling and, according to . . . Danita, her name was definitely Danita . . . his choice was _fucking awesome_!

“Oh God, yes, D! He’s perfect, absolutely PERFECT.”

Jethro racked his brain for the other woman’s name and came up blank. He shrugged. No doubt it would come to him around 3am in the morning.

“You know I’ve been following his career since he was on _St. Elsewhere_ and totally went into mourning when they killed him off _West Wing_. That man is sex on a stick and I’d sell my soul to the devil to take a bite out of his super fine ass.”

“His hair! Don’t forget his hair. Harmon is turning into a silver fox and just the thought of running my fingers through those sinful strands of . . . .” 

The excited voices of the two women were lost in the noise of the applause coming from the front of the stage but it didn’t matter. Jethro had gotten the gist of what was being discussed and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud. At least some of Tony’s fans appreciated a man that had seen his share of years.

“Take that Dylan O’Brian.” Jethro furtively performed a small fist pump and nearly dropped his coffee when startled by a very familiar and very much welcomed hand sliding into the back pocket of his slacks. Recovering quickly, he accepted and then returned the kiss offered to him by Tony.

“Ready to meet my adoring fans?” Tony asked.

Jethro checked to see if Gerald was getting his ass in gear and nodded when he saw his husband headed in their direction. “Seems I have a few of my own adoring fans.” With a tilt of his head, he indicated the two women standing behind them, both of whom were now openly staring at them. “I have it on good authority that Special Agent Daniels gets ‘em _hot in all the right places_.”

“Like I haven’t been telling you that for the past 15 years.”

Jethro couldn’t help but grin as Tony openly ogled him. His grin turned into a chuckle when Tony let out a wolf whistle that caused the two women behind them to start giggling.

“I’m betting we’d sell a whole lot more books if we put a picture of you on the front cover.” Tony tapped his chin in consideration. “Maybe I should rename the next book . . . _Special Agent Daniels,_ _Lethal Heat_.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“I love you, too, Hot Stuff. Speaking of hot men, where is the missing character of this steamy threesome?”

Jethro aimed his empty coffee cup at their approaching husband. “Fanboy there has been soaking the lapels of a potential candidate for your next movie.”

Tony craned his neck to see exactly whom he was referring to and Jethro felt his inner Alpha raise its head in delight at the sight of the hickey on Tony’s throat. Of course, the passion mark was hidden from view the second Tony relaxed his neck but that didn’t keep Jethro from softly growling with appreciation while sweeping a thumb over the area.

“You’ll never guess who I just met.”

Before Gerald could say another word, Jethro clasped a hand on Gerald’s shoulder and pressed a finger to the bite mark lying hidden beneath the layers of clothing he wore. A gasp of pleasure welcomed his touch, followed by a second, very familiar and just as welcomed, hand sliding into the remaining empty rear pocket of his slacks.

“Do you have any idea how much I want to strip the two of you naked and cover your bodies with more of these?”

The blush on Tony’s face and the open look of eagerness on Gerald’s only made Jethro growl again and he grasped the necks of both his husbands as he welcomed them into his embrace. He stared long and hard into the eyes of first Tony and then Gerald. Their love for him was blinding, and it was in that moment that he experienced an epiphany.

To hell with getting old. Age was only a number and as long as he had these two men at his side, he could handle anything the future threw at him.

 

The end

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never been to Comic Con so please forgive my ignorance. 
> 
> Also, major thanks to all who offered kind words of support to me upon learning of my life-altering situation. It will be one year since the Flood this coming August and even now, there are still so many families and businesses struggling to rebuild! But rebuild we will because we are Louisiana Strong!!!
> 
> Love to all!


End file.
